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quietwingsinthesky · 1 year ago

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Two Birds With One Saw

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Fandom: Supernatural

Ship: Gen (Dean & Sam)

Additional Tags: Amputation, Blood and Gore, Major Character Injury, Suicidal Thoughts, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Vomiting, Fainting, Season/Series 10, Cure for the Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Phone Calls & Telephones, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dean Winchester Whump, Hurt Dean Winchester

Wordcount: 2363

Summary:

Dean is going to get rid of the Mark of Cain, whatever it takes. He’s going to have to do it alone.

Dad had taught Dean how to make a tourniquet when he was eleven years old. He’d known how to do it desperate, when you had few supplies and fewer minutes to stop the bleeding before you were carrying a corpse back rather than your buddy. Dean hadn’t asked then, and never did, how many times John got it wrong before he’d gotten any good at them. It wasn’t the sort of thing that occurred to a kid, not one who saw their dad take down creatures twice his size to protect his son, the one he sat out in the open to lure them in. It came to Dean a lot more as an adult when the people dared care about dropped like flies around him.

It felt like their world had gotten so much smaller, though it was already a corner all their own to begin with, only a few familiar faces popping in to say hi. Dad’s bones would be rotted clean by now if Dean hadn’t burned them himself. Jo and Ellen were ghosts that Dean had trouble remembering the voices of. Rufus went out too quickly to say goodbye, and Bobby went out too slowly for it not to hurt. The old guard was down to him and Sam.

And the Mark on Dean’s arm made him more monster than man. Hell, if Dean was someone else, he’d want to hunt himself. Not that it would do any good, down for the count an hour or three and back out of the grave with black eyes and a fuzzy grasp on why he shouldn’t bash his brother’s brains in.

Dean shuddered. His arm was almost numb below his elbow. The tourniquet squeezed the life out of him, but even through the dim sensation beyond it, he felt the Mark digging its claws into him as deep as it could. Dean grinned, drunk off the adrenaline seeing the saw he’d sharpened up for this sent through his body.

And off of the bottles littering the floor around their kitchen counter. It had seemed funny when he handcuffed himself to it: chopping a hunk of himself off where he cut up the deli meat from that little place Sam liked. He couldn’t feel the cold metal of the cuff anymore or the counter beneath his arm. There was only dull pressure left. He glanced down at his fingers and moved them barely. The were tipped in blue.

Dean reached for his phone. He tapped out Sam’s phone number and held it to his ear until he heard it ring. The sound of it rattled through Dean’s skull as his vision swam. He leaned more of his weight against the counter. His other hand clenched up into a fist. The saw glinted his own determined expression back at him, teeth bared for both him and the weapon he’d use to set himself free. Sam’s phone rang twice before he picked it up.

“Hey-”

“I’m cutting it off,” Dean told him. There wasn’t a point in beating around the bush. Sam’s silence was one of shocked confusion.

“Sorry?” He paused, and without seeing him, Dean could picture his frown perfectly, a wrinkle between his brows and his nose scrunched up. He’d been doing it since he was a kid. Dean wondered if Sam knew how much he looked like Dad when he made that face. “Are you drunk?”

“Very,” Dean answered. He’d done his job in worse condition. Sam knew that. “I’m only calling to make sure you start heading home. I don’t want to die of blood loss.”

“What?” Sam said, alarmed now. He couldn’t write whatever Dean was saying off to drunken rambles. Good. This was serious. “Dean-”

“Listen. My arm. The one with the Mark. I’m cutting it off. No more fucking around trying to find a cure. I’m taking care of it, Sammy.” He heard Sam’s breathing pick up on the other end of the phone. He’d be paler, Dean thought, and his eyes would be wide and watery with panic.

“Dean, don’t. You-”

“I didn’t call you to talk me out of it,” he snapped, a tendril of anger that was clever enough to feel like his own strangling him. He tried to rein it back in, but he still sounded like he was trying to bite Sam’s head off. “Get in your car. Go back to the Bunker. Get ready to keep me from dying.”

Sam didn’t say a word. All Dean could hear was his breathing and the faint sound of his pacing footsteps. Dean stared down at the saw. It was so easy. He couldn’t believe they hadn’t thought of it before. If he trusted Sam to make the tough call, he’d have had him here to take the damn arm off himself while Dean was strapped down, but Sam wasn’t capable of that anymore. (And Dean was good at telling him what was going to happen over the phone, but facing down those eyes begging him to stop in person? He couldn’t take the chance that he’d back down. This was for Sam’s own good as much as Dean’s.)

“No,” Sam said, his voice shaking. “I’m- I’m not. I’m staying right here.” Dean glared at the opposite wall. The Mark whispered to him a tempting fantasy, his hands around Sam’s neck, choking him out until the only words out of his mouth were, Yes, sir. I’m on my way.

Dean bashed his fist against the counter. He didn’t have to see Sam flinch. He knew it had happened. No matter how far away Sam was from him right now, he was still scared of Dean.

“What the Hell do you mean ‘no’?” Dean demanded.

“I’m not coming. I’m not going home to find you bleeding out on the floor.” Dean worked his jaw. It stung like betrayal, but he knew his brother better. Sam was aiming higher than that. He was looking for a bluff that didn’t exist, thinking he could make Dean stop if he stayed away. Dean let out a long, slow exhale. Calm settled over him. The Mark’s heartbeat was steady up his numb arm, and he didn’t care what he had to do to silence it.

“You’ve been waiting for this.” Dean knew where Sam was tender, easy to bruise. “Want me to know you keep your word, huh? Same circumstances, you won’t lift a finger to keep me from death’s door.” Sam made a noise, soft and hurt like a prey animal in the jaws of something hungry.

“That’s not-”

“You talk a big game about curing the Mark and saving me, but you don’t mean it. You’re just going to leave me to die.” Dean bit down harder, wringing more pained noises from Sam’s throat with each accusation.

“You won’t.” He didn’t know what Sam’s aiming for, but it ended up as begging. “You won’t do it. You’ll die if I don’t come, and I won’t, so-”

“So what?” Dean took the phone from his ear and set it down, turning it to speaker. “You don’t care enough to come save me. Why should I care if I live through this?” He was already a zombie thrice over, or a ghost, or a demon. If death wanted him so bad and Sam didn’t, why not hand himself over already, get rid of two cursed things with one fell chop?

“Dean-” Sam stopped, like he’d registered the change in Dean’s voice, how much further away he sounded from the speaker. Panic rose in him. “Dean, wait! Don’t do this!” Dean ignored him. The saw had a good weight to it, and Dean had been sharpening it to perfection for days alone in his room. Sam didn’t even notice. “Dean, please!” Sam made a sound Dean recognized as a sob, but that didn’t move him. That horrible pulse was drowning out Sam’s voice, leaving only Dean’s need to get rid of it. “I’ll come!” Sam pleaded, voice cracking, “I’ll come right now, just don’t hurt yourself. I didn’t mean it, okay? I’d do anything to save you. You were right. That’s what we do.”

“Glad you’re seeing reason,” Dean told Sam as he rested the teeth of the blade against his arm. Short hairs sheared away from his skin from how sharp the edge was. Sam’s footsteps pounded over the other end of the line, carrying him obediently back to his car and back to the Bunker. He adjusted his grip on the saw. The angle would be awkward, and Dean wasn’t sure how far he would manage to get through before he passed out.

“You’ll stop?” Sam said, with a beaten sort of hope.

“If you get here and this thing isn’t off of me, forget about saving my life. You saw the rest of it off first.” Dean heard the sound of a car door slamming shut.

“Don’t-”

“Hanging up now, Sam.”

“Wait!” Dean stopped just before he did. He could hear Sam’s shaky inhale. “Dean, if you’re dead before I get there…” He couldn’t finish that. Dean understood. There was no way to get used to the sight of your brother’s corpse.

For only a moment, Dean hesitated. Sam didn’t take his death well last time.

If he died right, that wouldn’t be his problem anymore, whispered something that had learned how to mimic his inner voice almost perfectly. He’d get Sam back eventually when he died, too. That was what mattered. He’d go out in a bloody blaze of glory and get his reward at the end.

“Don’t hang up,” Sam pleaded.

“I don’t want your last memories of me to be me screaming my head off,” Dean said. It had the shape of a joke, but it was built with too much honesty to hold itself up. It crumpled between them.

“Then don’t do this,” Sam said. Dean could hear the sound of Baby’s engine.

“Treat my car better this time.” The tourniquet was done right, but Sam could be minutes or hours away. Dean was starting to realize, no matter how tight he’d wrapped it, he hadn’t expected anyone to bring him back from this war. Not even Sam.

That thought didn’t make him hesitate the way widowing Sam did. Dean always knew he would die for the cause. He shut his eyes, bit the collar of his flannel between his teeth, and began to saw.

The pain burst up through the numb flesh like fireworks. Dean grunted as blood filled his vision, but he didn’t stop the harsh motion. The Mark pulsed with fury as Dean sawed into his arm. He tried to gauge through the pain if he was bleeding more or less than he should be, but that was a useless endeavor. He wasn’t stopping either way.

The saw freed fat from around his muscles, and Dean screamed for the first time. He could hear Sam yelling over the phone. His voice swirled around Dean’s head. Dean’s name joined the rhythm filling his ears, the Mark’s pulse against his own pounding heartbeat, the pain coming in waves against his brother’s terrified calls. Dean bore his weight down on the saw. He swore he could feel the muscle separating under the serrated edge. His arm split open into ugly meat. Dean’s suffocated blue fingers twitched at the end of it, but he couldn’t feel that, only watch them.

He hit bone faster than he thought he would. It resisted more than the rest of him, but Dean was going to break it off no matter what. His vision danced with black spots, grey at the edges and blurry in the middle. The white of his bones sticking through his cleaved muscle was the only thing he could focus on.

His own screams were in the chorus now. It didn’t feel like he was even making them anymore. His body was breaking apart. The only bits that still felt attached to him were the arm coming off and the one removing it. His legs were long gone, trapping him against the counter. His mouth wasn’t under his control anymore, and he could have been babbling anything to Sam without being aware of it. His bones cracked under the pressure of the saw, and he heard another of his own screams.

When he broke through the bone, he threw up. He wasn’t even aware of it until it was out of his throat, leaving only the burning taste of acid behind. He barely turned his head from his arm. Vomit splattered over his open wound and the tourniquet, burning against the wound. He could hear Sam say something, but it was all just noise now. A hum built up of everything Dean could still register. He might have yelled at Sam to shut up or might have only imagined doing so.

He rallied all the strength he had left. It wasn’t much, but supplemented with stubbornness, which he had in spades, it would get him through carving up the rest of his arm.

He didn’t notice the space between severing his tendons and lying on his back on the floor. He didn’t remember sawing through the last flaps of skin holding his arm together. He turned his head, but his arm was too far away, bent the wrong way. His hand reached back towards him, corpselike fingers curled stiffly against the floor. Dean stared at it. He raised his arm to get a better look at the saw wound, grasping weakly with his other hand for the saw but not finding it anywhere on the floor on his other side.

His upper arm moved. His hand stayed where it was until the sawed off stump below the tourniquet, sluggishly bleeding out, nudged against his fingers.

Dean laughed. He couldn’t feel the Mark anymore.

He couldn’t hear himself laughing either. He just felt the way his chest convulsed and his lips pulled wide across his face. He couldn’t hear anything at all. He blinked, and his hand seemed to blur. He blinked again, and all that was left was blotches of dim color across his vision.

He shut his eyes, and there was only darkness.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

#whumptober2023 #no.10 #body modification #altprompt5 #supernatural #fic #gore #amputation #vomiting #abuse #suicide #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #fanfiction

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darkshrimpemotions · 2 years ago

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Thinking about this more and I think there's this tendency in the fandom to conflate like, the vast interpersonal allowances Cas makes for Dean with like. Cas having no independence from Dean and that's. Simply not true?

Like yes, Cas doesn't call Dean out on his interpersonal bullshit NEARLY enough, which is why his departure in 15x03 can feel so gratifying, but he also has goals and an arc and a storyline that dovetail with Dean's while also being completely independent. In fact Cas spends the vast majority of his arc not only doing things independent of and away from Dean, but quite often at cross purposes with him or towards the same goal, but taking a radically different approach that Dean either dislikes or out and out opposes.

And I do think this is a function of Cas and Dean both being programmed to be soldiers, with Dean's programming overridden from the start by his love for his brother which he then extrapolates to basically anyone he gets to know for more than five minutes, while Cas's programming was broken by his own innate sense of right and wrong.

Stay with me here.

Dean didn't have to tell Cas that Zachariah's plan was wrong. Cas already knew it. He already felt it, deep down. He had questions. He had doubts. Dean gave him a push to listen to those doubts, but they existed long before Dean came along.

How do we know? Naomi. She's reset Cas countless times. And what is the context of that revelation? She cites horrific instances of old testament mass deaths, which Cas is sure he did not participate in. Because he's sure he has always known this was wrong. To which Naomi counters that he did. Because she made him. He rebelled against his orders when those orders involved something he innately felt was wrong, and she re-brainwashed him to make him comply. Eons before he ever met Dean.

Hell, this reveal retroactively implies that she also reset him in season 4, when he was going to rebel on his own, before Dean ever asked him to. And arguably reset him before he ever meets Dean face to face on earth, after he placed Dean in his grave.

Because Cas, left to his own devices, has a wider sense of compassion, of right and wrong, that he applies more or less consistently to the world. People, in general, deserve second chances. People, in general, deserve to be saved. So of course his loved ones do, too! His love of Dean, of Jack, of Sam...these are all intensified versions of his longstanding, pre-existing love for people, humanity.

Dean, on the other hand, has a very variable sense of right and wrong that is situational and heavily based on his relationships to the people involved. His love for humanity is more empathy-based than compassion-based. He protects people he sees his loved ones reflected in. His love of humanity is an expanded version of his love for his family.

(For the record, I'm not making any value judgments here on which approach is right or wrong. I think they both have limitations and pitfalls, which I'm about to get into.)

Which is why an argument Dean and Cas have over and over is the greater good vs. the personal good. It really starts in season 6, when Cas has his plan with Crowley to open Purgatory. His end goal is to defeat Raphael, who wants to restart the apocalypse, which would result in the deaths of over half the people on the planet. He is personally motivated, yes. He doesn't want Sam and especially Dean forced back into a fight they sacrificed so much to win. But he's also motivated by his greater sense of right and wrong, which is why Dean's personal pleas to stop for him fall flat. To Cas in season 6, the threat Raphael poses is certain, and global. The threat Purgatory poses is purely theoretical, largely interpersonal, and he sees no other option. It isn't just about Dean and what he wants. It's about the whole world at that point.

Another great example is the Mark of Cain in season 9. Dean takes the Mark to stop an imminent threat to his family without fully calculating (or perhaps understanding) the threat this course of action poses to the world. The world, in this instance, is what's theoretical. Faceless strangers he may or may not harm someday, versus immediate, certain danger to the people he knows and loves most. His end goal is just to stop Abaddon and Metatron, who mainly seek to take out the Winchester brothers. He is worried about the greater threats they both pose, of course, but his primary motivation is saving his family. Which is why Cas's entreat of "I'm the one who'll have to watch you murder the world" doesn't get through to him while "Dean...please" does.

So basically, you have two people with similar values but radically different approaches in how they apply those values consistently butting heads and checking each other for twelve years. The interpersonal latitude Cas gives Dean almost seems like a reaction to this. Their disagreements on this level almost always arise due to their differing approaches to their values, so Cas does what he feels is right and gives Dean a lot of space to express how pissed he is about it without recrimination. And to be fair, Dean gives as good as he gets in this regard (at least from his perspective). He routinely forgives Cas for actions he would find unforgivable from anyone else ("I'd stab 'em in the neck on principle," I believe is the way he phrased it), focusing far more on giving Cas latitude in exercising his values while interpersonally giving him what for on a regular basis.

(I'm not necessarily endorsing this or saying it's healthy, btw. I'm just saying this is what they do.)

So no...Cas is neither beholden to Dean for his sense of right and wrong nor dependent on him in any way. The latter of which drives Dean, who almost pathologically needs to be needed, crazy even as it's part of the reason Cas is such an exception to Dean's entire concept of how relationships work.

The thing is, Dean asked Cas to throw off his whole entire programming to do what he felt was right one time, and they agreed on what that was, and then somewhat to his dismay Cas just kept doing what he felt was right regardless of whether Dean agreed with him on that or not.

I think that's part of what's so compelling about them as a couple. In a lot of media, couples that aren't on the same page most or all of the time fall apart. And what this looks like in practice is one character becoming less of a character and being written to be as convenient as possible for the other.

But Cas keeps right on being an inconvenience and Dean, if anything, loves him more with every disagreement and, at the end of the day, there's a bedrock of understanding that they share that makes the constant leaving and coming back and disagreeing possible. Trust coexists with uncertainty between them in a way that is frequently heartbreaking but endlessly compelling.

And I dunno. I think that's really fucking lovely.

#supernatural #destiel #lizawords #dean winchester #castiel #spn meta

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apocalypseornaw · 2 years ago

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Never say Never

For @make-me-imagine 5th blog anniversary event. The prompt I picked was "I can't stand the fact that I can never be with you."

Word Count: 1402

Warnings: smidge of cursing

You were laying across Dean's bed next to him watching whatever western he'd clicked on. You normally would've been paying attention to the television, your weekly movie nights were something you'd looked forward to but lately you started to wonder if it was something that meant as much to him as it did to you.

You'd known him and Sam the better part of your adult life. Hell you were twelve when you met them. Sam was the same age as you and Dean was a smart mouthed sixteen year old that thought he already knew it all until Bobby revealed you were a natural born witch being raised by your uncle who also a witch and a hunter. For years Dean avoided you at best until John went missing. He called you to go to Stanford with him in hopes Sam would be more willing to come along for the search if you were there.

The intention was to simply assist them in finding their dad then hit the road yourself. After Jess was killed Sam asked you to stick around so you started hunting with them more often. Eventually Dean started to trust you just as Sam did. You counted yourself as the first notch in Dean seeing that this life wasn't all white and black but shades of grey. Your powers came in handy at times and you fought for the boys just as hard as they fought for you.

The bond you had with Sam was unbreakable because both of you were the kids being dumped on Bobby, never feeling like you belonged. He was your best friend and you his. Dean however was a harder case to crack, yeah you were friends but the bond didn't form as strong until you ended up trapped in Purgatory with him. Nothing like a constant battle field to make you know each other inside and out. The weeks after making it back topside were the worse. The damn flashbacks drove the two of you together, there was nothing sexual but you would stay with each other wrapped up in your shared trauma offering comfort you could only find in each other.

Since then you could nearly read Dean's thoughts half the time only a glance having to be shared between the two of you. When had your feelings slipped past you into him sneaking his way into your heart? Was it when Sam nearly died from the trials? Could it have been the horror that followed his days of bearing the mark of Cain when it truly seemed like he would be lost to all of you?

Dean was impossible to not fall for. Physically he was gorgeous of course but besides that he was strong and caring and would risk his life to save someone without a second thought. He would fight with everything he had and loved with every ounce of his heart. You knew how he saw himself, a fuck up. When he looked in the mirror he saw every mistake he ever made. You'd give anything to let him see himself how you saw him.

Halfway through the movie Dean realized you weren't commenting on some of the ridiculous costumes or snatching any pizza. Hell your lemonade sat untouched. He turned his eyes away from the screen to glance over at you and realized you were curled up to his pillow laying tucked into his side.

He clicked the television off before nudging you slightly "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" You visibly startled before a soft smile slipped onto your face "Sorry Dean, guess my heads not really into this movie" "Yeah that bad of an excuse may work on Sammy but not me. I know ya better than that. You're looking worse than you did when I came back from having black eyes. Now what gives darling?"

You sat up slowly still clutching his pillow "That" he looked confused for a second "Me calling you darling?" You nodded the words slipping out before you could stop them "I can't stand the fact that I can never be with you."

His eyes widened and you felt your heart threaten to stop when you realized you'd just spilled your heart out "I'm sorry" you muttered standing to leave but damn him he was always the fastest human you knew. He grabbed you before you got to the door gently holding your wrists "Hold on now you can't say something like that then run on me"

You let him lead you back to the bed avoiding his eyes as you sat down next to him. "Can you explain what you mean?" You took a deep breath "You're Dean Winchester. The man whos saved the world more times than I can count. You're the best man I know. I'm just some witch. Hell I've almost made you be forced to kill another hunter way back when. I know you'll never see me like that and it's ok. I just hell Dean I never meant to fall for you please believe that, I would never risk our friendship"

You felt him move before his hand gripped yours gently "Look at me Darling" you slowly raised your eyes to meet his green ones "Can I talk now?" You nodded feeling your face warm from embarrassment "Are we ignoring how many times you've saved me? How many times you've saved Sam and countless others? There is no other person on this earth I trust the way I trust you. Yeah I nearly killed that asshole because he hurt you. I fell for you years ago but never wanted you to think you were just another woman to me. Besides Sam you are the most important person in my life. You're calling me the best man you know yet I'm a better man for just knowing you. I fell for you years ago but never knew how to say the words and having you in my life in any way was worth it to me"

"So what now?" You asked quietly and he smiled "Well I was thinking maybe I could kiss you then we could find a movie you wanna watch and take it from there?" "Even if it's the mummy?" You asked with a relieved laugh. "Even if it's the mummy. Now come here" He pulled you into his lap and you fell against his chest pulling a smile to his face "God you're beautiful" he whispered before brushing his lips against yours tentatively,deepening the kiss when you hooked your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

When you were forced apart by the need for air he chuckled "I'll watch the mummy a thousand times for you sweetheart"

@make-me-imagine

#meraswritingchallenge #merasanniversaryevent #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader

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sortasirius · 4 years ago

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Dean Winchester be like:

I hate myself because it’s what my father taught me to do. I hate myself because it’s a defense mechanism. I use sarcasm to cover up the fact that I believe I am worthless. I raised my brother into a good man, that’s the only good I’ve ever done. I’ve saved some people, they don’t say thank you, but that’s okay. I wish I could have been the man my father wanted me to be. I break everything I touch. All the people I love I end up killing or leaving me. I am broken. I don’t do romantic love, it’s asking for me to get my heart broken, more broken than it already is. I sold my soul to a demon so I could save my brother, because he’s the best thing I ever did, the only good thing. I’m afraid to go to Hell, but I pretend I’m not, because what’s the alternative?

Hell proved that I was the person I always knew I was, a bad person, willing to torture to get out of pain. I met an angel, he’s not like I thought. He’s a soldier, like me, he’s taking orders from a father he can’t see. He starts out as an ally, but he’s different than the others, they say he likes me. He’s awkward, he stands too close to me sometimes. I started the Apocalypse because I wasn’t strong enough. My brother is going down the wrong path, and I don’t know how to stop it. The angels tell me Lucifer has to rise, but the one that pulled me out of Hell disobeys to help me stop it. I think I should consider him a friend. Lucifer rises anyway.

The angel is on the run from Heaven, he’s a good guy, I like him a lot, more than I think I should. I don’t know what to do, if I say yes to Michael, we can save some people. Maybe I’ll get to know peace, maybe my father will be proud of me then. The angel and my brother are angry at me, but I’ve always been a coward, they just don’t know it. But they know me best, I can’t say yes to Michael if it means disappointing them.

My brother goes to the cage with Lucifer and Michael, the angel disappears, and I’m left to pick up the pieces, living a life I feel like I stole from somebody else. I always sleep with a gun and holy water under the bed, even though I know every entrance is secure. My brother comes back, but he’s different now, he’s not the same, I should have looked for him. I feel guilty. We found out his soul is gone, his soul, his soul. The angel is back, but he’s no real help. I kill myself to speak to Death, who brings back his soul in exchange for me playing Death, where I learn a few hard lessons.

I find out the angel has been working with our enemies. Why does it feel like my heart is broken when he won’t meet my eyes? I leave him to the demons, but not before one last look. I’m not sure why. The idiot, he ends up dying trying to get souls from Purgatory, desperate to win his war in Heaven. Why does everyone leave me? The Leviathan are out there, a new threat. At least I know how to kill, so I won’t have to think about the muddy trenchcoat in the trunk of my car. I lose the closest thing I have to a father with a bullet to the brain. I feel like I’m spinning out of control. My brother loses his mind. The angel comes back, he doesn’t recognize me, that hurts. When he does remember me, I tell him we need him, but I really mean that I do.

I get sent to Purgatory, I meet a vampire turned ally turned new best friend, but I won’t leave without the angel, I can’t leave without the angel. We find him, he was running from me, why does everyone run from me? We make it out of Purgatory, the angel gets left behind. It turns out my brother didn’t look for me. Why am I so dispensable? The vampire is the only one I can trust now. I dream about the angel, about the way I couldn’t save him. I feel like I can’t save anyone these days. I see the angel in the air around me, am I going crazy? But then he shows up behind me, why do I care so much about him? I don’t even care where he came from, as long as he’s here. My brother takes on trials, they start to hurt him. We find a place to call home. I’ve never had my own bedroom before. The angel is distant, I wish I could reach him. He doesn’t answer my prayers. He and I find the angel tablet, he hits me. I tell him I need him, never able to tell him that I think I might love him too. He snaps out of it then walks out of my life again. I wish I was lovable. I almost lose my brother to the trials, he has to know I can’t lose him, he’s all I’ve got. The angels fall, I wonder about my angel, if he’s alright.

My brother is dying, and I make a deal with an angel to save him. My angel says he’s a good guy, and I’m too desperate to vet him properly. I watch my angel, now a human, die in front of me, the angel in my brother saves him, it’s one of the only times I’ve ever put someone else over my brother. I feel guilty about that. I have to kick my angel out, it tears me in half to do it, but I have to protect my brother. I watch the angel from a gas station window, I try to find the courage to go see him. I use humor to hide how much I miss him. My brother finds out about the angel, which cost the life of a kid I was supposed to protect, he’s so angry at me. Well, I deserve it this time. I take the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, it can’t be all that bad. I start to lose my grip on myself. My angel gives up an army for me, and it’s the closest I feel to being me in months. My brother and my angel try to stop it, but it’s too late. I die in my brother’s arms.

I wake up with black eyes. I don’t care about anyone, anything. There’s a tiny part of me that’s screaming to wake up, but I drown him out easily enough. My brother finds me, says he wants to cure me. I don’t want it, I don’t want to be me, not feeling is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. They do cure me though, my brother and my angel, and waking up from the blackness is like surfacing from deep water. For a while, I feel loved. But after what I did, I don’t feel like I deserve it. I’m still not me, and when my friend, who I loved like a sister is taken, I go off the deep end again. It’s too easy, but violence is all I know. The angel tries to stop me. I have him where I want him, a blade to the heart and this is all over. But I still can’t kill him, I still can’t kill the angel. Death tells me I have to kill my brother. I almost do it. But killing Death releases me, and I’m me again. Sometimes I still wish I wasn’t.

I have this connection to this Darkness. It scares the hell out of me. I wish I understood it, I wish I could stop it. Am I pulled towards the Darkness because I, myself, am darkness? Is it because I am, because I’ve always been bad? I lose the angel to Lucifer himself, how did I not notice until it was too late? Why would he leave me like this? Will I ever get him back? My head is foggy around the Darkness, but not when it comes to him. I just wish I could get through to him. Lucifer taunts me, my heart rips in half. We get the angel back, but nothing good can last in this life, can it? God himself returns, I have to sacrifice myself to stop the Darkness. I’ll do it, because of course I will, if I have an opportunity to do some good, I’ll take it. The Darkness doesn’t kill me. She thanks me.

My mother is alive. It’s everything I’ve always wanted. I have to learn fast that she’s not what I thought. That’s hard. Me and my brother end up in prison for trying to kill Lucifer, and we find out this girl is going to have his kid. How will we kill someone innocent? I can’t think about that, I’m a killer, I’ll kill if i have to. The angel kills a reaper to save me, but what will happen to him? We start looking for this kid, but do we even want to find it? The angel nearly dies for me, he tells me, my family he loves us. I wish I could tell him the same, but the words won’t work right in my brain, so I do what I always do, I look away. The angel finds the girl, but the kid inside her gets to him, and he runs away from me. Why does everyone run from me? We find them just in time to find a rift to another world, and my brother has to drag me away from the angel, who is going to sacrifice himself to kill Lucifer. He comes back, but before I can say the words I’ve been holding onto for so long, he dies in front of me, only this time, it’s real. My mom is taken from me too, and I’m left by the angel’s side, staring up at the sky, wondering why, why me?

I bury the angel, my brother insists we can’t kill the kid, even though it’s his fault my mom is gone and the angel is... I beg God to bring him back, please, bring him back. You owe me this, please bring him back. He doesn’t listen. I’m alone. We burn the angel, and I try to learn to live with regret and grief and crippling pain all at once. I hate the kid, this is his fault. I kill myself again to save some souls, but also because I want to die this time. I can’t take it anymore. Death tells me I have work to do, but how much more work can there be? How much more can I take? It’s like the Universe reads my mind, because my angel comes back, and it’s like the last few weeks haven’t happened. I still can’t say the words, but maybe this time I’ll get there. Maybe this time. We go to the other world, we save some people, I find my mom. I let another Michael from the other world possess me to defeat Lucifer, but then I can’t expel him. Before he shuts me in my memories, I am desperately afraid.

My brother and the angel find me in my own head, the snap me out of it. I should have known this bar was too good for me, I knew I didn’t deserve it. I shut Michael in there, but I know I won’t last long. I think I’m too weak to hold him, so I build a box designed to hold me forever. I dream about it, claw the sides of the wall until my nails are bloody, but if it’s my eternity or Michael’s rule? I’ll take the ocean every time. The angel will always try to save me, I still can’t say the words. The kid, my kid, he destroys Michael, but something is wrong, and I don;t realize until it’s too late. My mother is dead, at the hands of the kid, and I have never been angrier. I hate the kid again, I hate the angel too, I hate myself more. I pull a gun on the kid, but I still can’t pull the trigger. Sometimes I wish I could put it to my own head. God comes back, turns out he was the villain all along. Typical. He kills our kid. I can’t let myself feel.

The angel tries to convince me that we’re real. How can I believe that? Is everything I am just a story? Have I ever chosen anything? Does the angel really care about me? Do I really care about him? Another one of our friends dies. I blame the angel, I push him away, because I can’t look at him if I think what I feel for him might not be real. I meet up with someone I loved. He’s a monster now, I have to kill him. He dies holding me. I wish I was dead sometimes too. My brother is sick, he gets kidnapped by God. I’m spinning in circles. Me and the angel end up in Purgatory again. He gets taken from me. I’m so alone, so scared, I break down in the one place I could get lost in forever searching for the angel, I don’t want to leave him, please, don’t make me leave him. I have to keep looking, get back to the real world to save my brother. How will I choose? Thank god, or, whatever, I find the angel. I’ll tell him this time, but he stops me. He must know. He doesn’t want me, no one wants me. Why would they? Chuck has taken everything from me. I have to kill him, no matter the cost. The cost is gonna be our kid, raised from the dead by Death. I guess the one thing we have going for us is we don’t stay dead for long. I’m ready to let my kid die for my freedom. My brother stands in the way, I pull a gun on him. He talks me down, he’s the only one that can. I decide to take it out on Death, my pain, my anger, my rage. I take the angel and we find her, she chases us. Another trap. I realize that I’ve trapped us both. Why am I so worthless?

The angel looks at me. He smiles. He tells me how worthy I am, that I’m good, that I changed him. How can I tell him how he changed me. He tells me he’ll die for loving me. Then he shouldn’t, I’m not worth his life. Don’t leave me, please, I can’t lose you, you don’t know what it does it me when you leave me. He tells me he loves me. I try to tell him a fraction of the things I feel for him, but it’s too late. He’s taken before my eyes, and this time I know there’s no getting him back.

I’m left on the floor, unable to move.

This time I know, I’ll never let myself love again, because my heart is so shattered that it’s powdered, there’s no repairing it now. I’ve always been broken, but this time I’m not just broken: I’m destroyed.

#so uh yeah idk what this is #dean #spn #my writing #supernatural #dean winchester #destiel #im so sorry????? idk where this came from #I have never loved anyone the way I love him

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rowyn-writes · 4 years ago

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A Mother's Love (Dean x Wife!Reader)

Warnings: Language, fluff, major angst, implications of divorce, arguing, Dean being mean to Jack

Pairings: Dean x Wife!Reader

Characters: Dean, Jack, Sam, Reader, Cas (mentioned only)

Word count: 2.7k

You threw your bag down as you entered the bunker, exhausted from your last hunt. This was one of the rare cases where you worked alone.

Sometimes you needed the time to yourself, away from all the men. Sometimes you would go hunting with Jody and Claire, but even then, those two argued like cats and dogs.

"Y/N," Jack smiled as you entered the kitchen. "How was the hunt?"

"It was pretty good, actually." You grinned as you sat across from him. "I was chasing down this werewolf in Tennessee, and it was really strange. He'd kill one person, turn the next, and repeat that cycle."

"That's. . . Weird." He furrowed his eyebrows.

"That's what I said. Well," You continued on with the story of your hunt, watching as Jack's eyes widened in amazement and awe.

"Y/N?" Dean called your name, entering the kitchen. "Hey, sweetheart. I didn't know you were home?"

You stood up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Sorry, babe. I got sidetracked. I was just telling Jack about my trip." You smiled, looking over at the boy. You were concerned, as the smile fell from his face and he looked away from you and Dean. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah," He nodded, not meeting your eye. "I'll give you two some space." He mumbled as he walked out of the kitchen.

"Does he seem off to you?" You asked Dean.

"Nah, he acts like he usually does. Squirrelly and weird."

"Says the squirrel himself." You rolled your eyes. "Did something happen while I was gone?"

Dean said nothing as he looked down, an obvious indicator that he was guilty of something. "Dean," You growled lowly. "Did you say something to Jack? Something that would upset him somehow?"

When Dean didn't give you an answer, you shook your head as you follow Jack to his room.

"Jack." You called out. He seemed to be lost in thought, as he didn't react to your words. "Jack!" You said louder, causing him to turn around. There was a tiny amount of fear in his eyes. If you didn't know him, it wouldn't have affected you.

"What's wrong?" You asked softly, resting your hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing." He spoke. "Why would anything be wrong?"

"Jack, I saw how you reacted when Dean came in. You looked like a kicked puppy. Don't tell me it's nothing, kiddo."

In the time you had known Jack, you had grown to care for him deeply. You had always wanted kids, but in this life, it wasn't possible. Well, it was, but you knew you didn't want your children to do what you do. So when Jack was born, you felt extremely happy because it felt like you finally had a child. Albeit, he did look twenty.

"Dean doesn't like me very much." He admitted.

"I'm sure that's not true. . ." You argued weakly. In all honesty, you didn't think Dean liked Jack either. It's not like he was abusive, but he did treat him differently than everyone else.

"But it is, Y/N."

"How do you know, Jack? With Dean, it takes him time to warm up to people. It took him months to actually trust me. He's a cautious person."

"Did he threaten you too?" Jack asked, genuinely curious. His head was tilted to the side, his honey blonde hair falling into his eyes. He had gotten that head tilt from Cas.

"Dean. . . Threatened you?" You whispered hoarsely.

"Yes," He nodded. "He told me if I hurt you or Sam, or anyone, that he would be the one to hunt me down and kill me."

Your mouth popped open in horror. You could never imagine your sweet, loveable, goofy Dean threatening Jack. "What else did he say, Jack? Did he say anything prior to this?"

"He said that he doesn't think that I can be saved. He said that even though you and Sam think that I can, that he doesn't."

"Jack, you don't need to be saved. There is no saving to do. You are a good kid. You would never do anything to intentionally hurt anyone. I'm so sorry. I should have been there." You sigh.

"He's not wrong, Y/N. I can't be saved. What if I turn out like my father, my real father."

You frowned as you cupped his face in your hands. "Jack, you are nothing, and I mean nothing, like Lucifer. You are just like your mother. You are sweet, caring, and you are empathetic. Just like Kelly."

"You really believe that?" He whispered, tears forming in his eyes.

"No, I don't believe it, Jack. I know it. You are nothing like Lucifer. If anything, you are much more like Castiel."

"Really?" He smiled.

"Yeah," You nodded. "You see, I don't know if you know this, but Cas does this little thing where he tilts his head to the side if he doesn't understand something or if he's perplexed. And I noticed that you do the same thing." Jack's smile widened as you removed your hands from his face. "And neither of you have any knowledge of pop culture. Even though Cas was here for a lot longer than you, he never understood a single reference any of us made. Even if it was something like Scooby Doo." You giggled, feeling your throat tightening at the thought of your dead friend. "And you two state the obvious a lot. Not in a bad way, more in a comedic way. It lightens the mood nearly every time. Cas would rarely smile. When I asked him why, he would say that the world was going to hell and he didn't have anything to smile about. But when he did smile, it would make everyone else smile with him. The same goes for you. Just seeing that little toothy grin of yours makes me smile. I mean hell, you two even look a lot alike."

"Could you tell me more about him?" Jack asked.

"Of course, but I have something to take care of first. Then you and I will cuddle up and watch a movie and I'll tell you everything you want to know about Cas, okay?"

"Yeah, I'd like that." He spoke. "Before you go, could I ask you something?" You nodded. "If I were to have a mother figure, and I called her mom, do you think my mother would be upset?"

"No, sweetheart, I don't think she would be upset. I think that she would be happy that there's someone down here taking care of you and you feel comfortable enough to call them mom." You said, completely oblivious as to what Jack was suggesting.

"Then. . . Could I call you mom?"

You felt the air leave your lungs as his words hit you like a truck. Jack watched as tears welled up in your eyes. Jack was horrified; he had never meant to make you cry. "Yo-you want to call me m-mom?" You stammer.

"If you're not comfortable with it I understand. I'm sorry, Y/N, I-"

You cut him off with a tight embrace. "Of course you can call me mom." You whisper, squeezing the boy tightly.

"Why are you crying?" He questioned.

"These are happy tears, Jack. I'm not upset. It's just. . . I never thought that I would have children, but then you came along, and you gave me what I wanted. You gave me a chance to be a mother."

"Thank you for being here for me, mom."

You gave Jack a huge smile as you pulled away. "Okay," You said, putting a hand on his arm. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to deal with my ass of a husband."

---

"Dean Winchester," You boomed, roaming around the bunker in search for your husband.

"Ooooh, you're in trouble." You hear Sam snicker.

"But I didn't do anything. Wait, what day is it?" Dean asked frantically.

"April ninth." Sam quipped.

"Okay, no birthday, no anniversary, so there's that."

You entered The Dean Cave, as Dean called it, seeing red. "What the hell, Winchester." You growled. "Sam, out. Now."

"You don't have to tell me twice." Sam said, grabbing his bowl of popcorn and walking out of the room.

"Yes, darling, sweetheart, love of my life. What can I do for you?" Dean spoke sweetly, giving you those stupid, green doe eyes.

"Jack told me." You said simply. "He told me what you said to him. That if it comes down to killing him, that you would be the one to do it. That there was no saving him."

"Y/N, you have to understand where I'm coming from." He tried to reason with you. "You should have seen him. He was stabbing himself with a knife! And it closed up like it was nothing! It's not normal. He's not normal."

"And?! None of us are normal, Dean. We've all died and came back to life. Sam didn't have a soul, he was hooked on demon blood, yet you were still there for him. You still believed in him. You died and became a demon, you bore the Mark of Cain and had a thing for God's friggin sister! And I still loved you through it. I have been brainwashed and manipulated into hurting all of you, and you still forgave me! Cas betrayed us, and we were still there for him. None of us are fucking normal! So what the hell, Dean? You're holding a grudge against Jack just because of who his dad is?"

"His father is Lucifer, Y/N!"

"Well that's stating the goddamn obvious!" You yelled.

"He could turn on us at any moment! We don't know this kid. We don't know what he can do."

"So we learn, Dean! We should help him figure out his way. Guide him in the right direction. Show him what a true, loving family looks like!"

"We are not his family, Y/N! And he's not our family. He never will be." Dean argued.

You flinched back, glaring at Dean. "How dare you! You son of a bitch! Whether you believe it or not, Jack is family. To me and to Sam. We care about him and love him!"

"He doesn't even know what love means!"

"Yes, he does! Because he feels things, Dean. He cares. He cares about all of us, including you. You know, he asked me if he could call me mom today. Did you know that? He trusts me and cares for me so much that he sees me as a mother figure."

"He's got you brainwashed, Y/N! Can't you see that?!"

"If he looked like his actual age, would you be acting like this?"

"What kind of question is that." He scoffed.

"If Jack looked four months old instead of twenty, would you still be treating him like this?" You asked steadily. Dean remained silent. "See! He is four months old, no matter how old he looks, he's still a baby."

"So, what, you want me to change his diaper or some shit?"

"No! I want you to treat him like a human being!" You yelled.

"But he's not human!"

You and Dean stood your ground, neither of you letting up. "Fine. I'm leaving then. And I'm taking Jack with me."

"No, you're not."

"Fucking watch me, Dean. I can't even look at you right now. Because you are not the man I married. That man was compassionate and caring. This one isn't. And until he comes back, I'm staying away." You cried.

Before Dean could get another word out, you left the den. You noticed that Sam was standing in the hallway, giving you a saddened look. "You're really leaving?"

"I'm sorry, Sam." You sobbed. "But I can't be around him right now. And I don't think Jack should be either. We're going to my parents house for a while. And until he gets his shit together, I'm not coming back.

"I know. I don't understand why Dean is acting like this." He mumbled.

"I don't either. It's so unlike him." You agreed.

"So what are you going to tell Jack?"

"Just that we're going to take a little road trip and visit my parents. I don't know, Sam, this whole thing is so strange to me. But I know have to go."

Sam frowned as he pulled you into a hug. "I'm really going to miss you. But you do what you need to do. And if you ever need anything, you call me, okay? I don't care what time of day it is, call me."

"I will." You squeeze Sam tightly. "Thank you for being an amazing brother and best friend." You pulled away, teary eyed as you parted from your brother in law. "I hope to be back soon."

You softly knocked on Jack's door before entering. "Hey, Jack." You smiled.

"Mom!" He said excitedly. "Are we going to watch movies now?"

"Actually, there's been a change of plans. Me and you are going on a road trip to visit my parents."

"Really? Are Sam and Dean coming with us?"

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat. "No, actually. This is a trip just for us. Sam and Dean wanted to stay here just in case they find a case or something that can get Mary back from apocalypse world. So I'm going to help you pack and then we can get on the road."

---

You had sent Jack to your car, having him put everything in the trunk while you finished up things in the bunker. The last thing you grabbed was a machete that belonged to your father before he gave it to you.

"Don't go." A voice whispered. You turned to see Dean, who looked like he had been crying. "Please don't leave."

You swallowed hard, feeling tears rush to your eyes once more. "Will you accept Jack as family?"

"Y/N-" Dean said, exasperated. "He can stayed here but he's not family."

"That's not good enough, Dean. Because I know how you act around people you don't trust."

"You can't force me to trust him." Dean scoffed.

"That's not what I want. I want you to get to know him. I want you to try."

"Y/N. . . I just. . . I can't."

"I think. . . I think we need time apart." You mumbled.

"Y/N, please –"

"Only for a little bit." You assured him. "They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all." You gave him a sad smile, trying to control your tears.

You turned to leave before Dean's voice stopped you. "If you leave, then we're over. That's it. Don't bother coming home."

You sighed as you looked back at Dean. You cupped his face in your hands and gave him a slow, sensual kiss. You could feel salty tears on your lips as you memorized how Dean's mouth felt against yours. It was warm and soft. You could taste the remnants whiskey on his breath.

You pulled away slightly, resting your forehead on Dean's. You felt tears streaming down your face as you looked the man you had grown to love over the past ten years. You had been through hell and back, literally. You had lost each other, fell out of love and back in love.

"This isn't goodbye, Dean." You whimpered. "I swear it isn't. I love you with every part of my soul. I'm not choosing Jack over you, okay? I just need time. I need you to wait for me."

"That's all I've ever done, Y/N." Dean shook his head. "I waited on you when you were in relationships, when you were heartbroken, when your sister died, I waited on you to love me back. I'm tired of waiting. I will always love you, and you'll always be with me. You've changed me, and I'm so thankful for it. You've made me a better man. But I can't. . . I can't keep doing this, Y/N." He whispered as he slipped off his wedding band. "This is goodbye." He set the ring in your hand, curling your fingers around it. "Goodbye, sweetheart." He gave you one final kiss. But this one was rough and full of passion. It really was goodbye.

"Dean, please." You cried. He pressed a swift kiss to the crown of your head before leaving you standing alone in the library. Sobs racked through your body as you clutched Dean's ring to your chest. "Please come back." You whispered.

You wiped your face of tears and stuck Dean's ring in your pocket. There would be time for tears later. Right now you just needed to get out of the bunker. As you looked around the library, you realized you had never felt this alone.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x wife!reader #supernatural #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst #jack kline #sam winchester #castiel #season 12 #dean winchester angst

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orionsangel86 · 4 years ago

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The first Valentines Day they spent together wasn’t great. Taking out a horseman of the apocalypse and consuming an obscene amount of red meat wasn’t exactly a great start for a whirlwind romance. But Dean still remembers the butterflies he got in his stomach when Cas stood too close, or held his gaze for slightly too long.

The Valentines Day’s that came after that were mostly painful, or just another day that Dean wanted to forget:

- Handing Lisa a crumpled gas station valentines day card and a bunch of flowers that had already seen better days.

- Drowning in grief at the loss of Cas and Bobby.

- Hiding in the dark of Purgatory, trading rough hand jobs with Benny, and sending Cas tearful prayers, wishing he’d come back.

- Comforting a scared girl being chased by Hellhounds, wishing his angel would answer his prayers yet again.

- He doesn’t recall specific days whilst he had the mark of Cain.

He remembers the valentines day whilst under the pull of Amara, pining for something both frightening and unnatural, knowing deep down he was longing for something else, something that he thought he could never have.

The valentines day the year after reuniting Amara and Chuck, he had only been out of solitary confinement a few weeks, Cas was there, in the Bunker with him. But he was stubborn and angry at Cas for putting himself in danger. Dean had been giving him the silent treatment the whole time, but God, does he remember wishing Cas would come to him. Cas never did.

So much had happened in the year that followed that one. Cas had died, and returned to him, they had found Jack, and lost him to an alternate world. Even with all that had happened, Valentine Day that year was one of his favourites in recent memory. Dean had shyly invitied Cas for a movie marathon in his room. They had put on a Scooby Doo episode whilst making popcorn, and Cas had teased him for his “ascot phase” that had lasted only a few weeks. Dean still thinks he looked awesome though. They had curled up on Dean’s bed, eating popcorn and watching old horror movies. Dean had fallen asleep on Cas’s shoulder, and woke up on the morning of February 15th with his arms wrapped around Cas’s waist, and his face buried in his side. They were both smiling that morning, but neither had mentioned it again. Dean wishes they had.

The following year things had gone wrong again. Dean was too preoccupied trying to keep Michael at bay in his mind to even think about Valentines Day.

Last year on Valentines Day he was full of rage. Still hurting over all the crap that had happened. Chuck controlling their lives, being mad at Cas, Cas leaving and only returning to help the fight. He was terrified that Cas was just another part of Chuck’s story, another way to manipulate him. But Cas turned out to be one of the only things in the universe that Chuck wasn’t able to control. The one thing Dean had wanted most was the only thing that was truly real in his entire life. The thought still took his breath away. He wished he had known that at the time.

This Valentines Day, Dean was feeling high on happiness and love. Another year where too much had happened, but Dean and Cas decided that they had wasted enough time. Too many years had passed where they couldn’t be together, now they were finally free, finally able to make their own story, and they had chosen each other.

Just over three months ago Cas had confessed his love, and been ripped away from Dean once again before he had even had a chance to process what had happened. Defeating Chuck, and finally freeing themselves from his story had come at a terrible price, but luckily Dean’s adopted son was God now, and this time the deus ex machina was just what he needed.

Dean had wasted no time in finally letting his heart speak. Sobbing confessions of everlasting love into Cas’s lips, his neck, his cheeks, his chest. It had all happened pretty quickly after that. Jack had fixed everything, and Dean and Sam could finally retire.

The wedding wasn’t even their idea. Sam had blurted it out one day that they should hold some sort of ceremony as a final fuck you to all the forces of Heaven and Hell and beyond that had tried to separate them over the years. From the most powerful Gods, right down to the nasty little men in expensive suits who didn’t appreciate their love for one another. Eventually Dean had whispered the words to Cas one night, whilst they were still naked, sweaty, and wrapped around each other, gasping for breath. Marry Me just slipped off his tongue, and had got him a tearful yes and another four orgasms before the night was over.

So the valentines day “fuck you” ceremony became “Dean and Cas’s wedding day” and here they were. Exchanging vowels in front of their whole family. Even Crowley miraculously showed up which put Dean on edge for all of 10 minutes before the former King of Hell smiled and raised a fruity cocktail in his direction.

Their first dance was to “All My Love” by Led Zeppelin. Because of course it was. In the dim lights of the dance floor, pressed close to Castiel’s solid form, cheek brushing cheek, breathing in the scent of him, Dean was in the only Heaven that mattered. Right here on Earth. Real Heaven could wait until he was ready to go, which wouldn’t happen until he was old and wrinkly and his hair was grey (but still fabulous and not at all looking like a party city wig).

Once the stragglers had finally left the reception, or past out in the corner, Dean and Cas slipped away to the wedding suite, and drunkenly made love until long after midnight. It was by far, the best day of Dean’s life, let along the best Valentines Day of the past 12 years.

It’s the morning of the 15th February. Dean is lying in bed, on his back, with his new husband wrapped around him like an octopus. He thinks of all the valentines days of the past 12 years, and then forgets them, and thinks of the ones to come.

Next year he will spend the entire day in bed with his husband. Maybe he’ll get up long enough to make pancakes to bring Cas breakfast in bed. Maybe he’ll slip on some anniversary/valentines day panties. He thinks Cas may be into that.

In five years time he’ll spend their anniversary/Valentines day in their home by a beach - the one he plans to build himself. They’ll sit under the stars and listen to the ocean crash into the shore, wrapped in a huge blanket and whisper sweet nothings into each others ears.

In twenty years time, they’ll celebrate with their family. Perhaps he’ll throw Cas a party. He can picture Jack and Claire grown up with their own families, and Sam and Eileen with their own children, also grown by that point, and ready to move on to college and beyond. He sees a future full of love, and happiness, and peace. A future he has chosen for himself. A future where he is truly free to live the life he wants.

In the end, it doesn’t matter if they make anniversary/valentines day plans in the future or not, so long as they are together, so long as he gets this. So long as Cas remains in his arms. So long as he gets to kiss his husbands handsome face and see the love and happiness in his eyes. So long as from now on, nothing, not Darkness, Hell, Heaven, or even Death can separate them. After all, past experience has proven that they never succeeded before. Dean and Cas will always find their way back to each other.

#destiel #deancas #destiel wedding #deancas wedding #happy valentines day destiel #destiel fic #destiel valentines day fic #this is canon okay #my fic

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apatheticanvas91305 · 3 years ago

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Even When You Hide

Happy @starrynightdeancas celebration day to @firefly124! I got really busy over the last couple of weeks, so its not as good as I wanted it to be for you, but I hope you like it anyways. (also I had to abandon my sketches and normal art style today due to technical difficulties, so the art is a bit rubbish, sorry, if i get round to finishing the other one in my normal style when i get home to my computers, I will send it your way) BUT ANYWAYS I hope you love it (the fic not the art, hides) and I think Sophie is the dopest for putting this whole thing together.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss

Based: Somewhere after 10.03, when Crowley give Cas grace and Dean is cured of Demon-ness, and 10.18, when Cas gets his grace back. I did not mention the Mark of Cain though.

Song: I See You - Missio

Word count: 2.2K

I see you when you're down And depressed, just a mess I see you when you cry When you're shy When you want to die I see you when you smile It takes a while At least you're here I see you

It had been 25 minutes since Dean had sent Cas to pick out the paint for his room. He put down all the sheets and lined the sockets and skirting boards with tape and was now sitting at the foot of the bed, tapping his foot to a silent beat.

Dean hadn’t known what to get the angel from the store so there were currently 12 pots of paint, all different colours, sitting on shelves in the garage. He chewed on the inside of his cheek absentmindedly, picturing the scrunch of Cas’ eyebrows and the tilt of Cas’ head as he scowled at the cans.

‘Dean. What does it matter if the room is winter blue or baby blue?’ Dean could almost hear him ask it - the gravel of Cas’ voice rumbled in the back of his mind. Dean shook his head, smiling, and headed to see what the hold-up was.

What he found was a mess.

“Fuck. Shit!” Pots of paint were scattered across the room. Most were broken open, stripes of paint led away from a large metal cabinet that had toppled over onto the Impala and cast the tins in all directions.

“Cas!”

Dean ran forward, holding his breath. The cabinet had smashed right through Baby’s windshield, fracture lines spanned what was left leaving chunks of glass suspended in the laminated frame. The bonnet had been completely crushed, practically folded in half, and the corners had torn into the paintwork. Dean would be seething except he couldn’t breathe. He threw his weight behind his shoulder, forcing it under the shelves and straining until black dots danced in his vision.

“Cas!” Dean collapsed, his efforts futile. “Cas! Where the hell are you?!”

And then he heard it – the quick and broken, but quiet sobs of an angel. Dean whirled around o fast his neck cracked and then he crawled, actually crawled on his hands and knees, towards the sound.

Behind the impala, Cas was perched on the balls of his feet with his trench coat pooling around him. Dean had never seen him cry before, not like this. There was a streak of paint that ran from just under his left eye to the corner of his mouth. Where his tear tracks converged with it, the drops turned blue and fell to the ground like grace. Dean watched, transfixed for a moment, before scrambling closer.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice louder than he meant it, startled Cas out of his fugue state. His hands, which had been moving, stilled instantly as he looked back at Dean with wide shiny eyes.

“I don’t want to go, Dean.” The cracks in Cas’ voice tugged at Dean’s soul. He didn’t understand.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

Cas’s eyes only grew larger as the hunter reached out, “Dean, please don’t make me go.” His arm hung in the air, terrified of doing the wrong thing. He knew Cas couldn’t fly anymore but it had never stopped feeling as though their conversations were timed, except Dean couldn’t see the numbers on the clock. He was always waiting for Cas to vanish. “I want to stay.”

Bile rose in the back of Dean’s throat and his hand dropped like dead weight between them as he realised what Cas was saying, what he was thinking. He thought back to months before. ‘You can’t stay.’ He’d said, the same bile rising in his throat as now. He looked at Cas in his human clothes, that goddamn hoodie., and watched as Cas’ heart broke. Watched as the hurt played openly on his features, defences down. And then, he’d looked away. Dean remembers looking anywhere but into his best friend’s eyes, knowing that if he did his resolve would surely crumble. Now, all he wanted was for Cas to look at him, but the angel had gone from a deer in the headlights to refusing to lift his head higher than his shoulders.

“I can fix it, I promise.” Cas’s hands started moving again. His fingers shook as he tried to slot several pieces of broken glass back together. Small cuts littered his palms, bleeding freely as Cas worked.

“Cas. Cas, why-” Dean swallowed around the lump of panic still tuck in his throat, “Why aren’t you healing? Is it the grace? Is it failing?” His hands had found there way between them again. They hovered uselessly over Cas’ own. Cas was shaking his head, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was in answer to his question.

“Cas?” Dean didn’t know what to do, until he did. Taking a shaky breath, he allowed his panic to consume him for one second more before he tabled it.

“Cas,” His voice was gentle but solid, “Cas, stop it. Please,” - Dean stilled Cas’ hands with his own. He turned them palm up and, careful not to catch any of the cuts, unfurled the angel’s trembling fingers with is thumb – “Just stop.”

Cas was still refusing to meet his eyes, but he’d stopped shaking his head. He stared down at the pieces of glass and Dean followed his gaze. He recognised them as the broken remains of a small glass statue of an angel. Sammy had presented the thing to a few years ago after he’d nabbed it from some rogue crossroad demon’s second-hand shop to bully Dean with. ‘A guardian angel to save me from your moping when Cas is away,’ Sam had said, and Dean had shoved it deep down inside Baby’s trunk. That was until they moved into the bunker and Dean had felt some strange compulsion to place the glass angel atop the recently toppled shelves. Cas had been there, tilting his head at him. ‘Present from Sam,’ He’d practically growled before running away.

“Hey,” One of Dean’s hands left Cas’ in favour of poking him gently in the cheek. Cas jerked backwards slightly, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. He was still crying but less so. Dean nodded, “I need you to listen to me. You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. Ever. Again.” He waved his free hand at the mess around him. “All this, none of it matters,” Dean moved his other thumb in circles, steeling himself. This moment is what all his years watching chick flicks in secrecy had been preparing him for. “You, Cas, are what matters. To me.”

Dean held his breath for one, two, three seconds. Cas hiccoughed, blinking one, two, three times as the last of his tears fell from his cheeks.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Dean whispered into the space between them, a little afraid of anything louder.

“I didn’t want to waste m…” Cas looked lost, “It.” Dean waited.

“When Metatron took my grace from me, he left me human. Except I’m not human. Jimmy though, Jimmy was human, fragile. Without my powers, I’m,” Cas struggled with his words, he looked away. “I’m a baby in a trench coat.” Fuck. “I am nothing. And I can’t go back to that. I can’t keep steeling my kin’s grace from them, reducing them as I have been reduced. I can’t.” He dropped his head to his chest once more. “But I also don’t want to die.

“Castiel.” Dean swerved back into Cas’ eyeline as he spoke, “You are not nothing,” Cas stared at him, not believing.

“You are not human. You’re not Jimmy. But you’re not your grace either.” Dean was going to make him understand how wrong he’d been sitting in Eve’s diner. “You’re not your vessel and you’re not your powers. When I look at you-” The hunter swallowed, “When I look at you, I just see… you. I see you, Cas.”

He looked down at their hands, feeling dizzy. He couldn’t believe how mushy he was being or how much he didn’t mind. He felt like Colin Firth. “As for the rest of it, we’ll figure it out. We always do. The grace situation… Well,” Dean smiled, small. “We’ll make it up as we go.” Dean lifted Cas’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into a single cut. After a moment, grace began to shine beneath the skin and the wounds pulled themselves closed. Beaming now, he leant back and ran his thumb over the soft new skin, turning their hands so their finger interlocked.

“Dean, I-”

“I made a mistake,” Dean interrupted, “I have made so many mistakes. But, kicking you out like has to be one of the worst. No explanation, no assistance, no nothing. It’s the wrongest I’ve ever been in my life. Gadreel gave me an ultimatum but that’s not an excuse. Doesn’t even come close to justifying what I did. I should’ve told you what was going on. Maybe if I had tried, for even a second, to communicate, we could have avoided a lot of pain. I should’ve – I should’ve done a lot. But I didn’t, and that wasn’t good enough.’

“Dean, it’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not.” Dean broke eye contact then.

“Okay, well” Cas squeezed his hands, “I forgive you then. How’s that?”

Dean huffed out half a laugh. His next words caught in throat as he looked back at Cas. He was so close to him. Dean supposed he always was. Dean’s eyes caught on Cas’ mouth where he had worried at his bottom lip. It was red and sore and wasn’t healing. Before Dean knew what he was doing, he was tipping forward, eye slipping shut. When they met in the middle, he barely felt it. He touched his lips to Cas’ like he had to his hands, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage. Dean didn’t realise he hadn’t been breathing until Cas’s lips moved against his own and he gasped for air. He leant against Cas’s forehead breathing far too heavily for such a chaste moment. They sat there just breathing in each other’s air for one, two, three seconds. Then Dean surged forwards, pushing of his feet so he was kneeling up over Cas. He dropped the angel’s hands in favour of holding his head in his own, pressing desperate kiss after desperate kiss to Cas’s mouth. Cas leant backwards under him as they kissed, moulding to fit the curve of his body. His dropped hands had twisted their way into Dean’s flannel, pulling him closer.

As Dean’s lungs screamed for breath, he pulled slowly away. Cas’ head dropped to rest against his sternum and Dean allowed himself to bury his face in his hair. His hands had settled at the base of Cas’ neck and began tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin there.

“C’mon,” He leant back and pulled Cas with him. Leading him by hand past the impala and a few scattered paint cans. He stopped by one - one of the only ones not broken open - and leant down to pick it up. ‘Dusty Cyan’. Perfect. He tucked it under his arm, and flashed Cas a smile.

I'm alone with you You're alone with me What a mess you've made of everything

I'm alone with you You're alone with me And I'm hoping that you will see yourself Like I see you

The next day found them huddled close together leaning over Baby as Dean taught Castiel how to hammer dents out metal without causing more damage and replace a windshield.

“D’you want to know something?” Dean cracked open his beer. Cas hummed from where he was bent over working a dent out of the open bonnet. He was wearing one of Dean’s ratty old Bon Jovi shirts, damp with sweat and motor oil and chewing on his lip distractedly – and distractingly. “Sammy got me that angel to tease me about you.”

Cas looked up then, “About me?”

“Yeah.” The hunter coughed, wondering what had possessed him to open his mouth and start yet another chick flick. Maybe he should be worried about how much of a sap he was becoming. It was Cas’ fault, obviously. “Cuz I always complain when you’re gone.”

Cas turned around and leant back on Baby, his shoulder brushed Dean’s. “You may want to begin coming up with some alternate topics of conversation.”

Dean laughed, “You think so?”

“I have been reliably informed that I’m not going anywhere.” Cas looked at him. “Ever. Again.”

Dean shoved his shoulder, smiling wide when Cas shoved back pressing him back into the Impala’s frame and leaning into his space.

“It’s why I put it up there in the first place instead of shoving in the back of some cupboard.” He poked Cas in the ribs. “Because it reminded me of you.”

“Me.” Cas echoed.

“You,” Dean smirked, “Dumbass.”

Cas growled and silenced him with a kiss for the ages. Dean let himself be taken over by the angel, surrendering the kiss to him and just basking in the feeling of Cas pressed up against him. He didn’t need some glass statue, he already had his guardian angel exactly where he wanted him, and he had proved to be far from fragile.

I see you in the dark At the dawn of something new I see you

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #hurt/comfort #cas is hurting #dean is there #i hope this wasn't too angsty and had enough comfort in there for you #fanfic #kat scribbles #literally in this case #userstarry #writing challenge #mentions of death #feelings of worthlessness #baby is also there haha #fuck #not literally in this case #first kiss #starrynightdeancas gift exchange

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spookyboywhump · 4 years ago

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So technically, this is a follow up to This Piece, and since we were talking about Zander caretaking Cain the other day,,,,, yeah. I didn’t want to write the actual punishment part so instead it’s mostly aftermath. This takes place several years in the past so Zander would be 18 here and Cain would be 20.

CW: Implied child abuse, whipping, mentions of blood, Charles Whitaker deserves his own warning

***

Zander stared at the scene before him, so confused he almost felt numb to the situation. Cain was kneeling a few feet away from him, hunched over and trembling. His back was to Zander and as much as he wanted to look away he just couldn’t.

His back was covered in long, bleeding lash marks from a whip, fifteen of them to be exact. From the corner of his eye he could see Cain’s father putting the whip he’d used away. The fresh injuries weren’t the only thing though, there were scars, so many of them that were obviously from the same injuries in the past. Zander felt sick with guilt though, all of this was because Cain gave him food, all of this was his fault.

Cain’s father ordered him to “do something about that mutt” before he left the room, leaving the two young men alone. They were silent for a long time, though Zander could hear the cries Cain tried to muffle with his hand. After a while he realized he wasn’t going to get up on his own, and finally, Zander got to his feet, shaking as he approached him.

“Hey… hey, you’re bleeding a lot, you… you need help…” He said hesitantly.

“Fuck off!” Cain hissed, glaring at him through the tears in his eyes. For once Zander tried not to get irritated.

“Now isn’t a time for you to be stubborn, you need to get this taken care of.” He said, reaching for him to help him up but Cain violently jerked away from him.

“Don’t touch me!” He snapped. “Don’t… don’t touch me…” He said again, struggling to get to his feet. He was swaying though, he was visibly dizzy and unsteady, and Zander had to catch him before he collapsed. Cain didn’t have the strength to pull away this time, and knowing he really didn’t have any other choice, Zander went ahead and picked him up, ignoring the fact he’d get blood on him as he carried him back to his cell, the door had been left open. He would’ve taken him to his own room but he didn’t know if that would cause him more pain and he knew his room already had the supplies he needed.

He carefully sat him down in the bathroom and Cain ended up on his knees again, staying silent while Zander got ready to clean the blood off his back. He tensed up when Zander first touched him, almost as if expecting to be hurt again. He stayed that way the entire time Zander wiped away the blood, it was odd behavior he’d never seen from Cain but at the same time, he couldn’t blame him at all for the way he was acting. He didn’t even know what to say to him so he kept his mouth shut for now. Once the blood was cleaned up he started on disinfecting the wounds, but the second he touched him Cain jerked away again, whipping around to face him.

“What the fuck- that fucking hurts!” He snapped.

“If it stings that means it’s working.” He said bluntly, grabbing him by the shoulder and forcing him to turn around again.

“This is fucking ridiculous, I can’t believe my fucking dog has to take care of me…” He muttered angrily.

“Would you rather be doing this yourself?” He asked, and Cain fell silent again, allowing Zander to continue to work. “I’m… I’m sorry this happened… I should’ve stopped him.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done.” Cain shrugged. “You would’ve only gotten the both of us whipped, and then we’d both be fucked.”

“Still… I don’t know, I’m just… I’m sorry…”

“Stop saying that. I don’t need to hear it from you and it doesn’t matter, it’s not as if it’s the first time he’s done it.”

“That’s horrible…” He murmured, a scowl on his face just thinking about it. “That fucking bastard… I just- I can’t believe he’d do this to you, ever, much less before.”

“You’re being far too generous to my father if you genuinely believe he’s ever been above that.” Cain snickered. “He’s not known to be merciful or have, you know, morals.”

“I know, I know.” He muttered. “He’s a fucking monster, that’s what he is.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” Cain sighed. He cooperated with Zander so he was able to bandage him up, finally finished with everything. He cleaned up while Cain sat there, silent for a long time before he very softly said, “I don’t want to go…” Zander considered reminding him that it’s not like he could make him leave, Cain could do whatever he wanted, he’d never considered Zander’s opinion before, but at the same time it almost hurt to see how sad and dejected he looked.

“You don’t have to…” He told him. He stayed on the floor with him, sitting silently as he waited to see if Cain even wanted to talk. Cain kept his knees pulled up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He would occasionally sniffle or reach up to wipe away a tear. Zander had never seen him cry before now, and he didn’t feel any sense of vindication like he always thought he would. Cain was horrible, but this situation was more horrible, his father was more horrible. He’d seen him hit Cain before, sure, but he truly never thought he’d torture him.

He didn’t think it was possible, but he was finally realizing Charles Whitaker was far more evil than he’d initially thought.

#my writing #my oc’s #zander #cain #whump aftermath #caretaking #a Moment between them

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sofreddie · 3 years ago

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Friday Feature: July 16, 2021

Welcome to the Friday Feature, where every Friday I feature a different Fanfic Writer’s blog. This week’s Feature Blog is:

Link to Masterlist

About the Author:

Hello everyone! My name is Mert and I go by superfanficnatural on Tumblr. I started out writing right about when quarantine began and while I’ve been mostly on and off for a few months, I still love everyone that I have met on this amazing site! I write both male and female reader since I feel comfortable writing both and I write for a multitude of fandoms (just haven’t been able to post any other fandom than SPN aside from a few one shots). Spanning from random video game characters, to real people, to fictional characters, you can see my thirst goes far and wide haha.

I love it when people who read my stuff or even just people I haven’t interacted with send me a message so I can meet new people so please, don’t be shy and reach out!

Author’s Fave Personal Fics:

The Boy/Girl Who Cried Wolf

Summary: A wolf hunt gone wrong results in an investigation. When things begin to not add up, will you be the girl/boy who cried wolf?